


Walking Contradiction

by dicks



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicks/pseuds/dicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto forced a smile because it was easier that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Contradiction

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Written for decimoluce 8059 anthology vol 1. Beta done by theotherdenise

  
It began when he started to realize how fast his heart was pounding whenever Gokudera was near, pounding so fast he felt as if it was going to burst through his ribs. He tried to ignore it, but it was hard because by then he had begun to crave more of the other boy’s company; which was probably normal because Gokudera was such a fun person to be around with, except for the part where he felt like he _had_ to touch Gokudera, and he _did_ touch whenever he had the chance; hands on the shoulder, grips on the arm, intrigued by the sensations where the skins met and he found himself standing and walking a lot closer to the other boy, but only to be pushed away.  
  
And then he thought he was going crazy when he spent most of his waking hours thinking about the other boy. And when he slept—  
  
Yamamoto Takeshi did not think that he should be blamed for the things he dreamt at night.   
  
But when the morning came, he couldn’t help feeling a little bit guilty and a little bit shy and a little crazier than before, and he would spend the whole day avoiding Gokudera’s agonizing green, green eyes.  
  
-  
  
When Yamamoto found Gokudera standing in the middle of the doorway, slouching a little like he was bearing a massive weight on his skinny shoulders, telling him that they _‘should do it’_ , Yamamoto responded with an honest smile on his face, and _‘Sure, Gokudera’_ even though he has no idea what _'it'_ meant.  
  
But when Gokudera grabbed his wrist and dragged him to his own room, pushed him on the bed and started kissing him awkwardly, with one hand curled in his hair while the other pressed his shoulder down to the mattress; that then was the time Yamamoto realized with an _‘oh’_ what had been meant by _‘it’_ , and _‘wow, this feels very nice’_. So he found himself kissing Gokudera back with even more enthusiasm than he had during his baseball practice.  
  
He couldn’t think of a reason how this was wrong, or why this was happening; he couldn’t think of anything except he would have wear nicer underpants if he knew it would come to this.  
  
And then there was a hand tugging his pants down and there was pair of lips nipping on the skin below his jaw; and all his sporadic thoughts about his underpants were completely forgotten.  
  
“This won’t change anything between us,” Gokudera whispered urgently against his neck.  
  
“Huh.” Words failed Yamamoto when he felt a curious hand creeping inside his pants, brushing slightly on his growing erection, and he drew a startled breath; it was too intense, really, and Yamamoto thought that maybe this was what being intoxicated felt like; it felt like flying in a hazy cloud in his brain, spinning around in circle, it felt surreal and Yamamoto wanted so much to believe that it was real.   
  
“Are you afraid?” Gokudera asked, pulling back a little, but never really taking his mouth off Yamamoto neck, and it drove him insane with the barely there touch of skin.  
  
It took Yamamoto a moment for the words to sink in. Was he afraid? Yamamoto pondered briefly as he slid a knee between Gokudera’s thighs, loving the sounds that escaped from Gokudera’s lips, and he thought he could ask the same question, except he already knew the answer; Gokudera hands were trembling like he would snap anytime. Gokudera wasn’t afraid, he was terrified.  
  
And the truth was that Yamamoto wasn’t afraid, not really, not when he thought about this sometimes, during those times when he was brave enough to indulge himself; those erratic lonely nights.  
  
And the strange, strange feeling on his chest definitely wasn’t fear.   
  
-  
  
“Why don’t you stay over?” Yamamoto asked the same question every time Gokudera came over and was about to leave. There was an ashtray on his dresser next to his bed, mounted with ashes and cigarette butts, a couple of rings that didn’t even fit his fingers, an extra towel on the floor by the foot of the bed; Yamamoto sneaked a glance across the room at the red shirt hanging behind the door along with his baseball uniform. All the things that were Gokudera.  
  
"Idiot," Gokudera replied flatly, pulling his boxers on. “I’m going home.”   
  
Yamamoto sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, watching the shadow dance as Gokudera was getting dressed in the dark. And when he was done, he left without saying anything, shutting the door silently as he left.  
  
And yet leaving another pair of rings on the dresser.  
  
Yamamoto thought this was a dangerous game they were playing and he wondered why he kept letting it happen, over and over, and every single time it hurt more than the last. Every time he found himself alone in the bed, he felt fiercely lonely because having Gokudera only physically wasn’t enough anymore. He laid there thinking and wondering how it would feel to wake up beside the other boy, feeling like a slowly sinking ship, except that he wasn’t sinking into the sea, he was sinking into the lunacy that was of Gokudera. And the funny part was that Yamamoto didn’t even want to escape.   
  
He grabbed the pillow, and then hugged it close to his chest. It smelled of Gokudera.  
  
-  
  
“I love you,” Yamamoto said one day while they were at the roof waiting for Tsuna. It was hot, the back of his shirt was slightly damp from the sweat, one of his hands was balancing the bento he brought from home while the other was holding a can drink. He stared straight into Gokudera’s eyes and blurted out again, _I love you_ , because that was him somehow; whenever he was with Gokudera he always ended up acting like a fool. _Fools in love_ , and there was no turning back, he mused, almost smiling to himself.  
  
Then there was an awkward silence, before Gokudera backed away, surprised, but somehow not surprised enough. “You must be joking.”  
  
“I’m not—” he began, then halted because Gokudera’s fingers around his arm were too tight.  
  
“Yamamoto, you don’t love me.” Gokudera’s voice sounded strained.  
  
But Yamamoto did. He might not understand a lot of things but he knew his own feelings, he knew how Gokudera normally took his coffee; no sugar and with an obscene amount of cream, he knew that sometimes Gokudera talked to himself when he thought no one was around, he had memorized the way Gokudera’s lips quirked slightly higher on the left when he smiled, and the way his eyes narrowed when he scowled, and Gokudera scowled a lot. He knew every dip and curve of Gokudera’s body but was still mesmerized by it, and he spent countless amount of times tracing the visibly blue veins on under Gokudera’s pale wrist and the lines inside his palm.  
  
“Listen,” Gokudera’s fingers gripped his shoulders tight. “You don’t love me, understand?”  
  
The thing was Yamamoto _did not_ understand.   
  
“Look at me.”  
  
Yamamoto tilted his head, their eyes locked. And somehow he couldn’t look at Gokudera in the eyes anymore because it felt somewhat painful and there was a strange impulse to curl himself into a ball, so he focused on Gokudera’s face instead; the shape of the nose, the not-so-visible freckles across the bridge and the lips that scowled at him more often than smile.   
  
“This is not love,” Gokudera leaned forward and sucking his earlobe, then whispered close to his ear, “You don’t love me.”   
  
“Gokudera—” and Yamamoto tried again but stopped halfway as he heard a pair of footsteps heading their way.  
  
“Don’t ruin everything with what you _think_ you’re feeling, idiot,” Gokudera whispered harshly before turning just in time to greet Tsuna.  
  
Yamamoto forced a smile because it was easier that way.  
  
-  
  
In the morning when the sky was bright and the clouds hovered over above the sky, it felt almost okay, spending time together like before; before he was expecting too much, before he talked too much and Gokudera never brought it up, Yamamoto tried, twice but every time he did Gokudera shunned him with heated glares.  
  
He wondered.   
  
Sometimes Gokudera’s gaze lingered, face remaining impassive but the fingers on Yamamoto jaw, nose, lips, trailed softly like he was reading a pattern and the sharp turn of Gokudera’s mouth would soften a little as he sighed, he sighed.  
  
Yamamoto wondered that too.  
  
-  
  
Gokudera whimpered silently, one of his hands tugging Yamamoto’s hair and the other clutching tightly on the sheets. Yamamoto grunted, increased his pace, lapping at the skin between Gokudera’s slender neck, tasting Gokudera, clinging as he tightened his grip around Gokudera’s hips hard enough to break. He could feel the tremor in Gokudera’s body, he could feel the other shudder underneath him, he could feel the sweat trickling down his back, he could feel almost everything but could think of nothing and he was groaning, moaning, and he thought he might be babbling because the feeling was too much.  
  
“Yama- ah please- I love yo—”  
  
And then silence.   
  
Time stood still as they stared at each other, blinking, mirroring each other’s expression— sinking slowly, sinking.  
  
“Yamamoto. Shit—,” Gokudera sounded timid, almost afraid and there was something akin to perplexity in his green eyes that begged for reassurance, as if he had just discovered a terrible, dark secret from within himself, and still not believing.   
  
“Hey, I love you too,” Yamamoto said, cupping Gokudera’s face with both of his hands, slick and warm. Then he kissed the trembling lips once, “I love you too,” then twice, “I love you too, I love you too—”  
  
“And I—,” Gokudera said. “I— really hate you, freak,” closing his eyes, resigned.  
  
Ruthless but loyal, simple but complicated, aloof but beautiful; Gokudera Hayato was a walking contradiction that altered Yamamoto’s universe entirely. “I love you too.”  
  
-


End file.
